


Task Force X (The Suicide Squad)

by BreePosens



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Super Villain AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:37:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7716769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreePosens/pseuds/BreePosens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a difference between the heroes and villains, often discrepancies too small for the naked eye. Sometimes, however, there's a job too dangerous for the heroes to accomplish, which is why there's Task Force X, or The Suicide Squad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Task Force X (The Suicide Squad)

_**Prologue** _

" _All rise for Judge Abernathy-McKadden."_

The tension in the room could be sliced with a knife. The long table flanked by CIA Agents and Heroes alike is in full silence as they stare at the monitor at the end of the table. For some of the veteran agents, they'd been waiting for this moment for decades now, and there was such satisfaction at the thought that Magnus could potentially be locked away for her crimes.

" _I believe the jury has their verdict."_

Cynthia Rose sucks in a breath as the chosen juror stands up to deliver the jury's final verdict. Her entire plan rests on this trial, this sentence, this super villain.

One of the cameras in the courtroom pans to the defendant, who at first glance just looks like an attorney.

"Did Magnus have to turn up or?" One of the interns asks, his eyes stuck to the blonde attorney in a red skirt suit.

Captain America clears his throat. "That _is_ Magnus."

The intern nearly chokes on his drink.

" _We, the jury in the case of District of Columbia versus Aubrey Posen, find the defendant guilty of twenty counts of first degree murder and three counts of second-degree murder, carried out in 1993 and 1999, respectively."_

" _Please stand for sentencing."_ Judge Abernathy-McKadden swirls her gavel in her hands. _"Any final words before I sentence you, Miss Posen?"_

" _With all due respect, Your Honor, you're about to hand an immortal mutant a life sentence."_

Cynthia Rose watches the families of those killed, there's no happiness there. They all look mortified, the woman who stripped them of their loved ones for her own gain isn't remorseful, she doesn't appear to care. If anything, she's smirking.

" _Do I regret what I did? No. Could I have done it more effectively? Probably."_

" _Get to the point please, Miss Posen."_

" _I'm going to outlive you, all of you quite frankly, and it makes me realize how broken your justice system actually is. The CIA sent me a Suicide Squad, and I helped with the euthanasia. Give me five-hundred or so years, but we all know you need me."_

Cynthia Rose looks to Jesse, who nods and stands up. "We'll head to Barden Penitentiary to receive her."

" _Miss Posen, you're despicable, deranged, and if The District Of Columbia had the death penalty, I'm sure the District Attorney would be fighting for it. You can bet the President won't be pardoning you."_ Judge Abernathy-McKadden looks at the blonde with disdain clear in her eyes. _"I hereby sentence you to five-hundred and seventy-five years of imprisonment in Barden Penitentiary, effective immediately."_

* * *

 

_**Chapter One** _

_Three Years Later: 2015_

Cynthia Rose looks at the pictures on the wall behind her, simple headshots of the people she needs to be using. There's six of them, and she needs to round them up from various prisons.

"If Captain America wanted to take the President straight from the Oval Office, would anyone be able to stop him?" She looks to the group of board members for the section of the CIA which dealt with the constant battle between heroes and villains in modern America. "Would anyone want to stop him?"

"I don't want _that thing_ I raised anywhere near the President of these United States." General Posen, Director of the CIA shakes his head. Born just as the war was ending, his work in the army led to his thinning hair. "We watched her kill our agents as we infiltrated that law firm of hers. They're too dangerous to trust."

Cynthia Rose slides her folder down the boardroom table, "which is why we give them an incentive."

* * *

She wants to take her time to visit them, evaluate their suitability and finally work out the mechanisms for tying them down. Her first stop is probably the least lethal: Doctor Conrad, imprisoned for her part in a Georgia epidemic of AIDS between Republican politicians. She'd been the one who worked out how to turn the HIV virus into a highly contagious liquid which infected anyone it touched who wasn't already vaccinated.

She then sold the vaccine to the highest bidder.

When Cynthia Rose walks around the one-way glass, she watches the Doctor write against the walls with a whiteboard marker. Occasionally, she'll step back and look back over the numbers and symbols.

Stacie's mind is in overload, equations and formula falling from her pen with a practiced ease. The inside of her cell is covered in them, forcing them to fall into her long-term memory for when she gets released in, like, ten years.

She's given up counting.

Her hand keeps scrawling, placing her gently curved letters on the glass. She's so determined to get this equation down, that she glances back at her previous letter to determine where she needs to balance. When her eyes settle on the letters she's written only moments ago, she throws her pen across the glass cylinder. That name is haunting her, it's everywhere in her cell, her mind, her _heart_.

Who knew six letters could hurt so much to see.

Stacie runs her sleeve over the deep blue ink, removing it from the surface. Her prison uniform is covered in the ink, the bulk of it from rubbing away the name she's inadvertently scrawled down. The once bright yellow is dulled by the smears, reflective of Stacie's spirit- dampened by the harsh realities of prison.

_Stacie's flicking through the pages of the newspaper when she feels a pair of arms make their way around her waist, a cheek resting against her back._

_This is a set-up they're somewhat used to._

_When she's in Georgia, the other woman will stay with Stacie instead of forking out for a room in a hotel in downtown Atlanta. It's a strange arrangement- they aren't even officially a couple. They'll stay together, work on their age-prevention elixir together, and then sleep together. It's a routine they settle into seamlessly as soon as Stacie unlocks the car at the airport._

" _Another homophobic, sexist asshole got elected to Congress." Stacie mutters._

_She feels the smile through her old t-shirt, the other, significantly older, woman with an idea. "Maybe they wouldn't be so awful if they knew what HIV was like."_

_Stacie's too wrapped up in the plan being spoken against her back that she doesn't notice the small vial disappear from the counter and into the attorney's slacks pocket._

" _I'll see you later though, you think about that."_

_If, as she watches the blonde walk away, Stacie notices the missing vial, she may be able to prevent the inevitable. But alas, she simply smiles like a fool, not realising that this is the last time she'll ever see her partner again._

Stacie shakes her head, trying to push thoughts of her brief lover to the back of her mind. She was still robbed, by a woman who refused to contact her ever again. It's the reality of the fact that she, for once in her life, was dumped that really gets her down.

Humming to herself, Stacie goes back to her equation; none the wiser to the agent on the other side of the glass.

* * *

Next on Cynthia Rose's list of villains, is Scarlet Witch, the teenager gifted with the ability to warp reality.

Emily is sitting in her cell, silently. Her legs are crossed in front of her. It's a common view of the young woman, who began her time as a known mutant so well, so positively.

" _She remembered you!" John hisses, disdain clear in his eyes. "I was there, she got all weepy about it. They put her brain back in a blender." Jesse hits him on the wall again, causing John to whimper. "She wanted me to tell you something, 'tell Swanson that when it's time to go, it's time to go'. You're coming with me." He reaches for the button, causing Jesse to let go._

_Emily picks up her pace, trying desperately to get to her friend before it's too late. She'd abandoned Amy and her drone, instead trying to get to her other teammates as soon as she can. She tries to avoid the mass of bodies running from the fight in the centre of the market- people leaving their livlihood just for the chance to survive._

_She notices Jesse just as the button is pressed._

_As soon as the explosion begins, it's contained. Jesse stares on as Emily lifts the man upwards with her hex, catapulting him into the side of a building. The explosion is massive, papers and bodies flying everywhere. Emily's hand immediately flies to her mouth, guilt running through her as she watches what she's just done._

_Jesse watches on as she presses his finger to his ear. "Amy, we need emergency services on the south side of the building."_

Emily tries to control her breathing. It's hard, tiring, and every time she closes her eyes the screams out apologies to the people who she killed in recklessness, desperation for her friend. She chose her friend over the people she was born to protect, and for that she's paying with time in prison.

She's a public health risk, and she understands why the government feels the need to keep her in check through prison time and close monitoring. She has the gauntlets on her hands, preventing her from conjuring a hex to break out.

She spends most of her days in silence, begging mentally for the chance to redeem herself.

* * *

 Chloe Beale is bordering on a dangerous insanity.

She dangles from the top of her cage, giggling to herself and relaying stories from a life long gone now. Cynthia Rose almost pities her, despite the fact many of her psychological tests come back with a 'mentally fit' result. Being a once brilliant mind before being pulled into the abyss must be hard, stressful, and she knows that had she never met _him_ Chloe Beale would still be one of the best psychiatrists in the country.

_She's always been fascinated by the way their minds work. The people who have fallen so far from society they have no choice other than to keep falling further and further away. She wants to help rehabilitate them, assist them with any hopes (nonviolent, of course) they hold dear._

_So when_ he _walks in, with his gelled hair and chiselled jaw, the wish to understand himself his top priority; she can't help but fall face first into a blissful oblivion._

_Tom was everything._

_Everything Doctor Chloe Beale had wished for in life, and despite his slightly off mentality about the world, she let him infiltrate her mind. Their conversations began to move from his issues to hers, his wishes to hers, his past to hers._

_She should've seen the warning signs._

_They're sitting in Chloe's room, Tom lying on the bed, fingers in his green hair. She's writing down notes, as she always does, on her legal pad. Her eyes flicker between the pad and the man across from her._

_She's meant to help the patients at Barden Asylum, not fall in love with them._

" _When we break free, would you like to come with me?"_

_It throws Chloe off, it takes a second for her mind to regroup, trying to comprehend what's happening._

" _You and me, Doctor, versus the world."_

Chloe runs her fingers through her hair as she sits upside down from the harness she'd suspended from the roof of the metal cage she called home. Tom is now dead, and she's stuck in this asylum she used to call work. She's slowly fallen into insanity's mouth, her once brilliant mind succumbing to the lies Tom has fed her over the years.

Cynthia Rose watches from a walkway suspended from the solitary wing's ceiling.

* * *

 Beca Mitchell is a name that's unavoidable in the CIA. Former US soldier turned Russian murder machine. She spends the majority of her time in solitary confinement listening to music, trying to catch up on the years she lost under Soviet control, where she was used as a pawn in their war.

_Her head hurts. An incessant pounding added to the unavoidable anger as she charges towards the group: Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Captain America._

_Jesse._

_She doesn't have the willpower to break free from the triggered violence she's turned into. She wants to run and grab their necks, snap them in half like chopsticks. When she has no control, she has no morals, no love, no wishes. All she can do is what she's made for - killing Captain America._

_She doesn't see the fear in his eyes as she jumps on top of him._

_She doesn't see the desperation hidden in pools of brown._

_All she sees is metal against metal as she slams her fists into that fucking shield of his._

_His whimpers go unnoticed as the silver of her hands get covered in red liquid. She keeps pushing, keeps pummeling, acting like her brain has been put back through 'the blender' as they refer to it._

_She grabs his shield, taking it in her hands and throwing it as far as she can into the ocean, because as she gives Swanson a piece of her mind, on top of a cliff, she doesn't want him to fight back._

_She's hit with a tranquilizer dart, eventually, as she refuses to stop getting her anger out._

_He betrayed her._

_He left her._

_He let them change her._

Beca stops for a second, staring up at the top of her cell. She hates what she's become, and she hates the fact that Jesse played a moderate part by leaving her to the government's devices. Even if she does believe that she should be in jail for her actions against Jesse on that cliff, he really did deserve it.

He still does. Beca decides as she fiddles with the flexion of her elbow, and one day maybe he'll understand that whilst he became America's hero, she became America's castaway.

* * *

Cynthia Rose holds the door for General Posen, having already swiped her security clearance card. For her final member of Task Force X, she needs someone who is far from rehabilitated.

But that means she needs Gen. Posen's express permission.

"No."

Cynthia Rose spins around, eyes falling upon the entirely metal-free cell (the only cell in Barden Penitentiary), the sole prisoner staring at her father with such disdain, Cynthia Rose is almost scared for her own life- despite the fact that it's very clear that Aubrey has no way of actually disarming anyone due to the true nature of the cell keeping her separate from the rest of the world.

Aaron Posen Sr. walks up to the edge of the cell, looking at his forty-two-year-old daughter, who doesn't look a day over twenty-five. Aubrey looks back at him, an eyebrow raised in expectation at the man who raised her- albeit badly.

"What do you do all day?" He blurts out, in a manner that juxtaposes the entire Posen mantra. "You have six-hundred years, almost, what do you do all day?"

"I learn." Comes the simple reply.

_Aubrey tries to slip past her father's study, in an attempt to avoid confrontation and the inevitable demand to see her report card. She got an unfortunate B in her latest Latin exam, and nothing less than an A pleases the General himself._

_Letting her shoulders fall slightly, Aubrey shrugs off her backpack when she reaches the kitchen. She turns to the fridge when a voice causes her to jump backwards. She spins on her heel, the sudden greeting from her father throwing her completely off track._

" _Apparently you got a B in Latin this semester." Aubrey doesn't answer him, instead trying to suppress the sudden flourishes of anger she'd been feeling over the past month."Do you know how embarrassing that is for this family?"_

_His barrage of angry words and hatred continues for a few minutes, when Aubrey finally lets the anger consume her._

" _Can you back off, please?" It isn't a demand, a genuine question Aubrey needs a particular answer to before she explodes._

" _Back off?" Gen. Aaron Posen Sr. roars as he towers over his sixteen-year-old daughter. "I will back off when you match your brothers you ungrateful little-"_

_And then it happens._

_The microwave explodes, and a speechless Aaron Posen Sr. stares at his daughter._

" _I asked you to back off." She repeats, calmly._

"You'll rot in here, Aubrey." He reminds his daughter.

Aubrey chuckles, sitting back down on the floor and adjusting the red tank top which makes up her uniform. "I'll still last longer than you."

* * *

 Cynthia Rose continues to follow an irate Gen. Posen throughs the winding corridors of Barden Penitentiary.

"They'll kill each other. Get them all here in three days."

Cynthia Rose smiles to herself, mentally thanking Aubrey for giving her the idea three years ago.

' _Suicide Squad'_ , it certainly has a ring to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a new idea I've been working on this past weekend. This is a taster of what's to come, it's quite vague, but that is the whole point.
> 
> Thank you to Sarah (a.k.a becamitchill on tumblr) for dealing with my insanity and helping me with ideas. Also, Remy (a.k.a aubreyyposens on tumblr) allowed me to steal her Aubrey headcanons, so the Aubrey/Gen. Posen dynamic/backstory is down to her.
> 
> Feel free to drop me some comments, they're always welcomed!


End file.
